It would be so tempting to fall apart right now.

But I’m so over it.

Not that there is anything wrong with falling apart.  It’s a category on my blog.  I’ve consistently fallen apart very well, and I appreciate the process for what it is. Right now, though, I am more interested in piecing myself back together.

On the airplane trip across the country and back this past weekend, Sami and I kept busy by doing jigsaw puzzles.  He’s gotten very interested in them all of a sudden, and I have too.  In fact, I’m not sure who enjoys them more. Now, I am thinking of going full-on into the world of grown up puzzles.  I’ve seen a ton here that have caught my fancy.  

Doing puzzles relaxes me.  It’s satisfying to find just the right piece and feel it click with the others. It’s a meditative act of sorts.  I feel the old alpha brain waves kicking in, and I settle down into a place of less frantic thought.

Right now I am seeing these puzzles as a metaphor for my life.  I put a bunch of pieces together, and part of the image appears, but it is still never done.  Can I be ok with not seeing the whole picture? Can I be content with piecing myself together bit by bit?  Can I hang in there during the times when I search and search for the next piece and it continues to elude me?  Can I accept the messiness of loose pieces all around?

I feel like I am coming down from a several weeks’ long high.  I now realize that MoTH and I used each other like drugs.  Perhaps I had an inkling of this deep down, but didn’t want to cop to it.  It was never real, none of it was, even though it felt that way.  Now I’m learning to live without my drug of choice.  It’s not so bad. Even though I am now alone, without even a Skype companion, I am relieved to be clean and clear.

In my last post, I asked why I attract men who poof.  It occurred to me that it’s because I have poofed on myself to a great extent.  I haven’t been taking terrific care of myself - and if I don’t do it, who is going to? Part of the fantasy with MoTH was that he was going to sweep me off my feet.  He promised me everything, and I ate it up, like a starving animal.  I didn’t know just how hungry I was until the promises collapsed like the house of cards they were.

So now…I get to nourish myself. No one is going to save me but me. This was the path I was on until I got a little sidetracked.  And even this recent experience, I know, is not outside the realm of the sacred.  Nothing is.  This month, I am rededicating myself to my spiritual life.  I’m going to commit to doing something each day to nourish my spirit, to piece myself back together, to approach the new year with a heart less broken.

What are your cures for a broken heart?